Clothes That Almost Fit

I once dumped a ten pound bag of sand into a tank of water and waited for it to settle to the bottom where it would become a scenic landscape for my fishless aquarium. Three months later I had fifty gallons of dirty water. Most of the dirt had settled to the bottom, but just enough refused to ruin the whole effect. Such is what I call the near fit in relationships. It seems like a good idea -- maybe you like the same things, maybe you are good friends, but you aren't madly in love and those things that drew you together becomes evil little spears that keep you together. The horror of the near fit is that it's just so fucking close to what it should be -- it keeps you busy trying, like those rigged carnival games where you just need one more shot to win the life-sized teddy bear. What you don't think about is if by some miracle you do win, you have to carry that bastard around all night.

The worst relationships aren't those that detonate quickly, blowing up in our faces like one of my friends who started dating a woman and didn't call her one night when he said he would. The next day, he had a copy of Dorothy Parker stories in his box at work with parts underlined about how men routinely fail women. She'd thoughtfully marked these sections with post-it notes so that he wouldn't have to read the whole book. The worst ones are the drag on, no end in sight, we need to work on blah, blah, blah, the old paralysis by analysis ones. Breaking up might be hard to do, but it's really a blast when you do it a few times for maximum pain. I used to buy clothes that almost fit, hoping that something would magically change. But they were a disaster of disappointment, just like the love version and you couldn't wait to change into something you really liked.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"I like anywhere. Anywhere's always been my favorite place." David Leavitt

Cocktail Hour
Drinking movie suggestion: My Beautiful Laundrette

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Tuesday!